Finding Out
by strangerslikem3
Summary: With the death of her mother, Lucinda Mealing finds out something shocking about her biological father. One shot unless more chapters are requested.


**I felt very angsty as I wrote this. I think it would be interesting if Voldemort had a child, but of course, it can't be a child that is born out of love (Voldemort can't love... A fact that is ignored by many fanfiction writers...) or a child that Voldemort even knows about. I'd love it if you checked out my other stories (especially my main project, _Rose and Scorpius: A Love Story?_), and I'd also love it if you reviewed this or something. Happy reading!**

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><p>Lucinda Mealing screamed as she opened her front door on that chilly evening on December 20, 1997. She dropped her groceries as she took in the sight of her furniture. Things were burnt, broken, piled on top of each other, and thrown to the side. Drawers were opened and the contents skewed across the dark hardwood floor. The green velvet curtains that she had worked so hard to put up had been ripped from the rod and were thrown in a heap over a large object. Cautiously, she stepped forward into the room, the pumpkin pie she had planned on making long forgotten. She held her breath as she carefully picked up the curtain and threw it across the room. At the sight of her lifeless mother, she covered her mouth with her hand as a gasp escaped her lips. Lucinda closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm herself before kneeling next to her body.<p>

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed red marks up and down her mother's arm. She reached over and picked up the limp arm, only to find three words carved into the soft, porcelain skin: _Stupid mudblood whore._ Lucinda felt tears trickle down her face. She knew that it had been Death Eaters. It was inevitable. They hunted down, tortured, and killed every muggle born that they could, especially Hermione Granger. And, for some reason, her mother felt as if the Death Eaters would pay special attention to her, almost as much attention as Hermione Granger. Almost.

Lucinda glanced back down at the arm of Florence Mealing and felt a few tears trickle down her cheeks. She dropped the arm to wipe her eyes and it landed on the floor with a thud, which brought on a round of sobs. Never having been married, her mother was the only person in the world that Lucinda truly cared about. Even at 72 years old, Florence had had so much life in her. She had instilled hope and admiration in her 52 year old daughter, even amid a devastating war.

She stood up to gather the curtain in her arms. She planned on hanging it back up for privacy. After all, she didn't feel like more Death Eaters peering into her window. A look of surprise fell upon her face as a piece of parchment fell from the fabric. She reached down to pick it up and slowly opened it. It was a note from her mother; she recognized the swoopy handwriting instantly.

_My sweet Lucinda-_

_If you're reading this, then that means I am dead. I was expecting it, and I'm sure that you were too, deep down. I never stood a chance, for three reasons. The first being the fact that I am a muggle born. The second two reasons… Well, that is why I am writing this letter to you. I knew they were coming for me, so I wrote this an enchanted it so that only you could read it. You see, the contents of this letter are top secret. You must not tell a single soul if you value your life. Shall I get on with it? Promise you won't be angry with me, I kept it a secret to save you. You must understand._

_On January 17, 1946 (I was 19 years old at this point), I met a charming young man with dark hair by the name of Tom Riddle. I recognized him from Hogwarts, but as a Hufflepuff, I had never associated with any Slytherins. He captivated me with his dark eyes and witty humor, and convinced me to go home with him. Me, being very drunk and most likely under the influence of a drug that he slipped in my butterbeer, agreed. He led me down a dark alleyway, and for some reason unbeknownst to even Merlin himself, I followed him. I realized my mistake when he started to come onto me and, to put it delicately, raped me, while calling me a "stupid mudblood whore" the entire time. It was the most degrading and scarring thing that had ever happened to me. I passed out sometime during the rape and woke up just as he was about to kill me. Somehow, I found enough strength and courage to fight my way out of the situation and escape. 9 months later, on October 18, 1946, you were born. You are the best thing to ever happen to me, and there has never been a time when I wished that you didn't exist. I have moved past the incident and learned to not let it bother me, but I was always concerned that he would find me and kill us both. That's why we moved around so much. I didn't want to tell you this, because I was worried that you would start to resent yourself. But you have the right to know, and I was wrong to not tell you sooner. No one must ever know that Voldemort is your father. _

_I love you Lucinda, don't let this new information get to you._

_Be brave,_

_Florence Mealing_

Lucinda found herself struggling to breathe as she finished reading the letter from her mother. She crumpled it into a ball and collapsed onto the floor, formulating a plan. She would do everything she could do defeat her biological father. She would find Harry Potter and aid him in any way she could. She gracefully stood up and quickly gathered some necessities from around the small house that she had shared with her mother.

She strode from the house, slamming the door behind her, and turning her back on the way she had been living, on the defensive side of the war. She would start her new life on the offensive side, but only if she knew where to start. She paused in the middle of the street to think for a moment. She decided that she would go to a place she had camped once, to be safe and have a hiding spot. Literally two seconds before a muggle car was about to hit Lucinda, she apparated to the Forest of Dean, much to the dismay of the muggle.


End file.
